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I ache.

From the top of my head to the very tips of my toes I do not believe there is a single spot on my body that is not complaining. I wish I could say it was a good pain that I’d had an exceptional workout, or even better absolutely mind blowing sex. God that would be nice. But no, it’s his fault I feel this way but nothing nearly so pleasant. When I got home from work on Friday I had stopped to pick us up our usual. We normally have pizza, a couple of ice cold beers, and watch a movie or two before we fuck the night away. Our version of celebrating the week’s end. He arrived before me which, although unusual, wasn’t a big deal. He’s had a key to my place for six months now after all. He seemed a little out of sorts but it had been a hell of a week so I thought nothing of it. We ate pizza, drank beer, watched the third of a movie, and out of nowhere his fist connected with the side of my head. Next thing I knew I woke up here.

I think that was five or six days ago. It might be longer. He hits me so hard I pass out and I have no idea how long until I wake again. Ignoring that I still have no idea what the fuck happened, or why he’s doing this, I can’t figure out why I’m tied to a bed of all things. It’s even comfortable sort of. It’s hard for anything to be comfortable when you’re covered with bruises, cuts, and even a couple of broken bones (I think a rib, and a bone in my leg but I can’t be sure about any others). And although at some point he stripped me, he seems to be putting a blanket on me as if to let me freeze would be unacceptable. When he comes into the room he puts a straw into my mouth, lets me drink some water. But there has been nothing to eat. As I’m still breathing I can’t help but think he’s doing something when I pass out to keep me alive but why?

Ok what do I absolutely know? He’s nuts. Ok that’s not going to help. I did notice that the leg that seems to be broken is also the one tied to the least stable of the posts. I think that’s why he broke the bone. I can’t pull on the post without a lot of pain. Last time it felt as if my leg would tear in two if I kept it up. And that’s when he broke my rib. He was so angry that he just kept hitting me. It doesn’t matter though, this is only going to work one of three ways. One, I manage to get free and somehow make it somewhere safe. Two, I piss him off badly enough that he totally loses it and beat me until I’m dead. Or three, and this is the one that truly terrifies me, I stay like this for god knows how long until he tires of his games and kills me. I’m not overly fond of options two and three. I’ll try my arms again, getting a leg free won’t do me much good if it’s the only part of me not tied down.

Fuck me. I wonder how long I was out this time? Ok try to remember what happened. I got my arm free! Just in time for him to walk in. Oh shit. Yup, both arms look shattered. How am I even awake let alone thinking? I should be screaming in pain. I wonder what he’s been putting in the water. I’m pretty fucked now. I can’t lift my head high enough to see my legs but I’ll guess they’re both shattered too. I’m going nowhere. Even if I somehow managed to get free he’d just follow the trail of blood until he found me passed out from the pain. He never speaks. I never have the energy to. But if I’m going to die I’d at least like to know why. I hear him coming. This is probably going to hurt.

The door opens, and he enters the room. He smiles at her, and offers her the straw. She turns her head. He forces the straw between her lips and she does nothing. “Drink” She shakes her head at him. “You need to drink or you’ll feel all of this. Now be a good little girl and do as you’re told.” He doesn’t appreciate the glare he’s receiving and he slaps her, hard. “Drink”

“Fuck off.” She can barely speak but he knows what she said.

He slaps her again. “Watch your mouth!”

“I want to know why I’m here. Why are you fucking torturing me?” Her voice doesn’t change, he damaged her vocal cords at some point, he was afraid she might scream.

“Because you’re a fucking whore that’s why! I found your phone with those messages! To some guy named Brad. You’re MY girlfriend and you’re talking about fucking him! How you can’t wait to have him….” He turns away for a moment, shaking uncontrollably.

Brad…. Brad, this is about my ex boyfriend from five years ago Brad! It hadn’t occurred to her to clear an old phone, she’d chucked it in a drawer and forgotten about it. She starts to giggle, she can’t help it, and she can’t stop it. Even when his fist connects with her cheek she giggles through the pain. “Did you even look at the dates dipshit?” It’s the last she manages to get out before he connects with her mouth, shattering her teeth. She can’t move so she chokes to death on the pieces that fall into her throat. She’s dead a good half hour before he stops hitting her.

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2 comments on “Messages”

That was so horrible, the story, not the writing! Great writing…That kind of stuff really does happen. Torture, jealous rage, being beat to death…if he would have just been a man and confronted her, like a normal person, things could have been resolved. Never know what a psycho will do when his true nature comes to light! Awesome piece.